


as much a light, as it is a flame

by txilar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Community: smut_fest, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txilar/pseuds/txilar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More and more Itzal feels like a kept pet. He's sick and tired of it. And then Iudicael's mystery guest appears and everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as much a light, as it is a flame

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ingenius-inc](http://ingenius-inc.livejournal.com) for the dystopia/post-apocalypse round of [smut_fest](http://smut-fest.livejournal.com/).

"Oh please, tell us!"

Itzal smiled at the woman on his right. Her lovely heart shaped face beamed in the soft lighting. She clasped the hand of the woman beside her and they both nodded eagerly at him.

It wasn't that he hated telling the story. It was the expectation that he would perform, on demand, like a trained dog. Like a dancing child. The simple minded earth boy performing under the patient humour of well-meaning nobles. Nobles who made the story possible.

"Go on, tell them."

Iudicael's voice was warm, but Itzal could hear the mild remonstrative hiding behind the indulgent tone. Five years and still he made Itzal perform at these parties, as if he were hired entertainment. Iudicael still thought of him as a child.

'You should be grateful.' The elder judge's voice still played in his head like a gramophone recording, repeating over and over. 'Count your stars, child.'

Itzal counted his stars. Every night. He would never take the night sky for granted. Nor his freedom. Yes, they were free. Yes, the old system was abolished. Yes, he was free.

But.

Itzal smiled at the crowd around the table. Only years ago, they were the ones that kept him from the light. From knowing that there were electric lights that shone bright as the sun. From dining at meals such as the delicate lamb they'd had. From wearing fine clothing. From choice. From knowledge. From freedom.

These people, who now feasted on his stories, were the ones who'd kept him in the dark. His father died so that they might live. His mother lost two children so that their children might thrive. They lived in dark, so that these people could have light.

He swallowed against a sudden rage. He'd not felt like this since the first time Iudicael commanded him to share the tale, to admit, to confess that he'd been an agent of the The Fox of Foudrais--sworn enemy of the nobles, now imprisoned and paying for their crimes.

Itzal took a deep breath and smiled again. "One night, well, it was always night wasn't it?" He paused for the appropriate titters of laughter. "I'd been following an air duct that had a blockage. It was hot, dirty, dark work. It took a long time, but I finally reached the point where it was sealed into the rock. Then it was hot, dirty, dark, and damp. I climbed in and crawled. Somehow, I got lost in the tunnels. Turned around and not only lost, but trapped. I could only go forward at this point, through the dirt, the roaches, and the rats."

A woman down the table gasped, throwing her hand to her throat.

"Oh, rats aren't so bad. Not with a bit of garlic. And sometimes we had butter." He couldn't help it. Was it the wine? He didn't look at Iudicael. The woman looked as if she might throw up. Clement, Iudicael's little toady, pushed his plate away. Itzal smiled, as if joking, and continued.

"I don't know how long I was trapped. It felt like I'd climbed for miles. I was desperate for air, for a bit of light. And I was scared. I was barely fourteen, I suppose. Not yet a man, but I was no child. I was there to prove myself." A dramatic pause. The men smiled. Partly in understanding, but mostly., he knew, they were laughing at him. He wasn't a man like they were.

Six foot, an engineer employed by the crown, and he was still a child. He could be fifty years old, eight feet tall and muscled as wide, and still he would be a child to them. Beneath them, literally once and figuratively now.

"Suddenly, there was light. It burned so brilliantly that I had to cover my eyes, but I couldn't stop. I had nowhere else to go but toward the light. I came against a grill that I managed to kick out and then I tumbled and woke up in paradise. It seemed that I'd landed in the Garden of Eden. If I'd been a good believer, I'd have bent down and kissed the ground in prayer."

Women and a few men nodded approvingly. Prayer was more popular with women than men, though they certainly understood the sentiment.

"I was a defiant young thing. I walked out boldly, but, in truth, I was terrified. Curious, excited, and near to pissing my pants!"

Laughter from the men, who understood, and embarrassed disapproval from the women. He couldn't lie, that disapproval delighted him. Did he dare work in details about the shared chamber pots?

"So I wandered through the garden. It was so bright and the sky was the colour of my mother's eyes. And then, suddenly, it rained. An afternoon shower. I'd only heard of such." He sighed. He'd never forget that first rain. "I'd never felt rain, of course, only heard it. We were told it was punishment from God. Or perhaps radiation burning up the earth. Lies, constantly told. We wailed in grief and prayed for hours. We were fools."

Iudicael cleared his throat, in a warning.

"I stared as far as I could into the treetops, rain pelting my face, my tongue, and even dropping in my eyes. I laughed, dropped to the grass and rolled in it, pressing my face to the dirt, to flowers--oh the smells! Like nothing I could ever imagine. I must have seemed a madman." Itzal shared their laughter and then sobered.

"And then the men appeared." Some of the women gasped. The woman next to him put her hand out on his. it quivered. He smiled gently at her and continued. "I was terrified. I didn't know what they would do to me. I assumed they were guards, so I didn't bother trying to hide. I wouldn't even know where to go. I was sobbing so hard they didn't even have to threaten me. I let them take me away."

He paused again to sip some water and glance at Iudicael. He winked slightly, but Iudicael did not smile. His expression was oddly contemplative. Finally, he nodded for Itzal to continue.

Itzal leaned in, almost conspiratorially. "They took me to _him_."

The women gasped and swooned. Some of the men leaned in eagerly. Most looked embarrassed to be so enthralled.

"The Fox."

The elusive terrorist of which the earth children were completely unaware. These people would never understand why he wasn't afraid of Ren. He wasn't their enemy. Ren had helped him. Ren had saved him. He didn't fear the fox--he feared them.

"He didn't look like a fox. He was a right handsome devil, holding court in his tent, directing orders like a general in a war camp."

More swoons and titters. Clearly romanticising it was the best path.

"In between his dastardly deeds, he taught me of the world. Nothing like what we learned in the dark. We learned how to pray and how to fear. He taught me the imperial tongue. Mathematics. Philosophy. Engineering. The history of war. The arts of oppression. The way people were led into the earth, willingly. How they were bred to be used, like cattle."

Iudicael's foot pressed on his, in warning.

"He made it seem so easy," Itzal breathed. The foot pressed harder, almost hurting.

Itzal smiled widely, making a grand gesture with his hands as he leaned back. "And in return, I did his dirty work. I went back in the dark, with all I learned, and bid my people rise up with me. With the Fox. We did, and so took our freedom back, to walk in the light." Itzal toasted the air with his wine glass before taking a long drink.

"Where we live to this day." He smiled, looking around the table, and relaxed, quite pleased with himself.

Iudicael's expression was still troubled. "Well, Itzi, my dear. That certainly was an exciting version. I didn't realise the fox had taught you the imperial tongues. _Bene factum_." He inclined his head and clapped politely and the guests followed suit.

A few looked a bit insulted. But why should he care? Nothing he said was less than truth. And he could have said things that would leave them considerably more insulted. Things to make their stomachs turn and greatly offend their fine, fine sensibilities.

" _Gratias ago vos_ ," Itzal replied carelessly. Imperiously too, he might add.

"I suppose I should announce our surprise guest. I think Itzi has taken care of the grand introduction, hasn't he?" Iudicael was calm and relaxed and it heightened the mystery. Even Itzal had no idea who the surprise was.

They all watched curiously as Iudicael rose and stood by the doorway into the salon. He made a motion of presentation and a man stepped into the room, lit by lamps on either side of the wide arched doorway.

Itzal's heart thumped thickly once in his chest and he gasped for breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present Renouard de la Bruyére, perhaps better known as the Fox of Foudrais."

Iudicael looked right pleased with himself as they all clapped and cheered. Itzal stared at Ren as the men rose to make proper greetings. He was as handsome as ever. He turned to look at Itzal and smiled. His smile hadn't changed in twelve years.

Itzal swayed. The room went dark with Renouard shining brightly at the center. He heard a ringing in his ears, heat and noise, and a flickering sensation, like he was the flame of a candle. Something was wet, and the sound of glass.

Darkness

 

///

 

"Get that kid!"

He'd been terrified when the men approached. The forest was cool and calm, sweet smelling, and the sky so blue. He forgot that he was supposed to be fearful of the outside. He'd been brought up fearing the evil that roamed the earth, but he saw nothing that looked evil. There was sunshine and bird calls. He'd never heard birds before.

The guards would punish him. He'd have to pray. He'd have to be cleansed before he could return. Would they let him return? There were rumours about people who'd escaped but were too far gone to be saved or prayed for.

"Who sent you? What were you doing? Have you reported?" The men questioned him, but they weren't particularly threatening. Possibly they were put off by his sobbing. The more questions they asked, the more helplessly he sobbed.

"Take him to Fox. He'll break him."

That had only made him cry more and beg forgiveness. He didn't know who Fox was, but he did not want to be broken. They took him to a tent nestled against a outcropping. It was almost invisible, covered by trees and bushes. He stumbled as the men pushed him through the opening, announced that they'd 'found a skulker!' They left him on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't, I wasn't--"

"Get up and look at me."

Itzal stood, shaking and stuttering out apologies that the man ignored.

"I'm Fox, who are you?"

"Itzal." The man didn't look like a fox, though his cheekbones were somewhat vulpine. He was only a few years older than Itzal, but a grown man, dark-skinned, with glossy black hair trimmed short. His eyes were dark and intense over full lips. He had the kind of mouth that looked like he smiled a lot. But he wasn't smiling at the moment.

"Were you looking for me?"

Itzal shook his head rapidly. "I don't know who you are. Or where I am. I didn't mean to get out. It was an accident, I swear! I didn't know I was--where I--It was so bright and I was trapped and there was a rat biting my leg and I think I got turned around but I-I don't know and I didn't know how to get back and they told me to fix the blockage--"

Fox held up his hands. "Woah, little horse. Quiet." He tilted his head and looked closely at Itzal, taking in his clothes and stockinged feet. Fox's clothes were more like what the priests wore, but even nicer. . "What are you doing out here? Where did you come from?"

Itzal tried to point, but he had no idea where he came from. "I don't know where... The rocks. I'm from the third level, in the East Orange quadrant. I was trying to fix a blockage in the vents."

Fox stared at him. "You're an earth child? My god, I've never... Come sit down. Are you hungry?" The Fox went to the doorway and called for someone to bring food. He walked Itzal to a seat and sat across from, looking Itzal over as if he'd never seen another person before.

"I'm nearly grown, I'm not a child." He sat as directed, stung to be called a child. No, he wasn't a man, but he was doing a man's job.

"What do you call yourself?"

"My... name is Itzal." Hadn't he told him that? Why were guards living out here, when it was so dangerous?

Fox smiled gently and shook his head. "What do your people call yourselves?" At Itzal's blank look, he cleared his throat. "For example, I'm Lusian, though my mother is a Cassianite, and I live in Borres, which is the capital." He paused and seemed to be waiting for Itzal to respond.

"My mother is Rezi. I mean, that's her name. My grandfather told me that his grandfather said we were di Qabri, but we're not allowed to have that sort of thing anymore. The priests banned it. We were divided into colours and directions. Grandfather picked east because he said his grandfather told him that's where we were from before the..." he shrugged. "Well, you know, before."

The Fox nodded slowly. "I don't even know where to begin. I'm part of a group that's trying to free your people. What do you know about us?"

Itzal knew nothing. Almost literally, he knew nothing. Nothing of the real world. Nothing beyond the dark.

He began sneaking out to see the Fox. It was easy to slip away with a bag of rat traps. Vents were constantly blocked. They were afraid of breaking safety zones, and breathing in poisoned air. No one wanted to work the pipes, so no one questioned him. He was doing the jobs no one wanted to do..

It began innocently, not like a lesson at all. Itzal asked questions about how they kept the lights on at night. The Fox explained electricity, but Itzal wanted to know more. So the Fox gave him an engineering book. Three days later, he'd taken apart the family lamp and rewired it.

It was so bright that a woman outside screamed. He unplugged the lamp, dropping it just as a guard came through the door. He didn't have to fake the tears; he'd touched the bulb and burned his hand. That night they'd had an extra long service and prayers. Even the men prayed.

People trusted him. They believe him when he told them of the lies they lived under. Most importantly, Grandfather approved.

"You were born under a shadow, Itzal. But that's the mark of a saviour. You stand as a man now. I have faith in you."

That responsibility made it harder for Itzal to sneak away, to learn about the real world. And that's how he still thought of it. The real world was out there. He was eager to see it, but the Fox cautioned him to wait.

One night he took Itzal for a long walk. They hiked up the mountain, over the very rocks and roots and trees that covered the roof of his home. His family was miles beneath them.

They climbed a tree. It was so large they could stand together on a single branch, Itzal against the trunk, the Fox beside him. His arm was loose around Itzal to keep him stable, and with his other arm, he pointed out into the distance, over the forest.

The glow should have been terrifying. They were taught that flames of radiation were the only thing that lit the night sky. Only beneath the earth was there refuge for the human race.

Miles away, a city thrived. Itzal could make out homes, roads lit with firelamps, things lit for no other reason than to shine in the night sky. Vibrant and shimmering.

And it was all on their backs. Until that moment, he hadn't truly understood.

He turned to look at Fox. He could feel the tears in his eyes, wiped away by the Fox's thumb. And then he kissed Itzal with the city radiating in the distance. He pressed Itzal against the tree, arms around him, hands in his hair, the warmth of the early summer night surrounding them. The kiss was sweet and wild, magical and sinful. The wet smell of the forest combined with the Fox's fancy cologne and the living silence of the night chattered as the Fox held his face tight.

It was a moment he never forgot. A moment that carried him through the tumultuous months of rebellion and revolution. The Fox was right. They hadn't needed weapons. They got out. That part was easy. Many people of the real world supported them and supported Fox's efforts. They were given places to live, food, and clothing.

The dissidents were disbanded, but their notoriety was not forgot. The Fox--Renouard de la Bruyere was a noble. Son of a royal councilor, and grandson of a general, he was branded a terrorist and blamed for the crimes of those he fought against. Saviour to those he'd freed, to the nobles, he was a reminder of what they had been and what they had done. He was an the emblem of the past and suddenly, a criminal of the highest order.

"A noble must fall," ruled the High Court. For their crimes, the Fox would pay. The trial raged for months and he only barely escaped execution.

Renouard was a fairytale, a dream come true. He was Light. Itzal couldn't imagine life without him.

"You are found guilty of wilful treason against the crown and against the people. By the grace of this court, execution is waived. You are sentenced to fifty years of labour. You forfeit your title. Your lands and wealth will be held by the court. High sentence is passed."

Fifty years. Renouard would spend fifty years living in the darkness from which he'd rescued Itzal. As if they'd traded places, Ren slipped away, into the darkness.

 

///

 

"And Itzal's grand finale!"

Itzal jumped, eyes snapping open.

"How embarrassing, dear, but so dramatic!" Iudicael's rich laugh filled the room, but he wasn't looking at Itzal. "The women loved it. Clement thought he was faking, but what a smashing end to the party." Iudicael loved being the talk of the town. The next fete would be bigger. It would require a longer re-telling of Itzal's drama and he would be expected to faint if the Fox appeared.

Itzal shook his head. They'd been in the drawing room for hours, talking until he'd drifted asleep, as swaddled in memory as he was in blankets.

But Iudicael's plans for the next fete weren't what drew his attention at the moment,. He was in a chair opposite the sofa where Iudicael and Renouard sat. They were angled toward the fire, while he was away from it, to keep him cool, lest he faint again. It allowed him a direct view of Renouard and he could be forgiven for not looking elsewhere.

He couldn't keep his eyes off Renouard, though he tried. They spoke as if he wasn't there, as Iudicael so often did, so it was easy to simply stare. And wonder.

"I called Grand Pere and he called everyone he knew."

"It's all right. I fared well in prison. I wanted for nothing and suffered very little. Save for being kept in the dark much of the time." Renouard shrugged one shoulder. "A fitting punishment, if I'm honest. I thought it fair even if it wasn't for the right crimes."

Renouard's gaze passed over Itzal, but it did not linger.

Did he recognise Itzal? Perhaps he had many young men and women he seduced into his cause. Itzal wasn't bitter. But he was curious.

Why did you leave me? Why did you ignore me? Why did you forget me?

It had troubled him for years. He'd attended every public trial he could.

Iudicael still didn't know the extent of his relationship with the Fox. He thought Itzal a simple child who'd idolised the Fox along with everyone else.

Iudicael was a noble himself, and, as he'd explained to Itzal when they first met, his family was well informed about the plants and the mines. That knowledge hadn't equated support, however, and his family was instrumental in assisting earth children during the revolution. And in the way those things do, they'd continued on in comfortable fashion once the newly elected crown came into power, as if nothing had changed at all.

"It was unfair. I feel guilty."

He hadn't been paying their conversation much attention, but Iudicael's words suddenly piqued his interest.

"You worked so hard and those of us who took little risk paid nothing. We kept our position and our wealth and you lost everything."

Itzal let his gaze slide to Iudicael. Something wasn't right.

"I thought you weren't--" He broke off as they both turned to look at him. Iudicael looked surprised that he'd joined the conversation. Of course. The adults were talking. He shouldn't interrupt. He shook his head.

"You never knew my role, did you, Itzi?" Iudicael's pupils were wide in the diffuse light of the salon. "I was no fox, of course, but I supported him. I did the Fox's paperwork. I printed, I distributed, and I lied to the authorities. We're cousins! Our mothers share our great-grandfather, and our fathers were brothers. His goal was to free your people and I stood behind them--behind him--every step of the way."

Iudicael turned to Renouard. " _Bonum opus_!"

Renouard's dark eyes were still on Itzal. Itzal met his gaze, but ducked his head to his drink. Renouard gave him little more than a measuring stare. Only polite attention. No hint of recognition.

Why was that so depressing?

And now he learned that not only were they family, but that Iudicael was also a supporter of the revolutionaries. Dissidents. Rebels. Whatever they were calling them now. They weren't terrorists any longer.

After a period of fractious governing and a whirlwind of trials, imprisonments, and executions, a semblance of order had come to be, with representatives of both the former noble class ruling with members of earth's children.

It wasn't perfect--so many of the free class still thought of them as children. Brash, recalcitrant children who were taking their high class toys.

He didn't care. They lived in the light now. That was all that mattered.

"We'll get your money and your title back, and we'll reclaim your land. My lector is working on the paperwork. Don't--you--worry." Iudicael's words were beginning to slur. He yawned and then sat up straight.

"I'm to bed," he said suddenly, wavering only slightly as he stood. Itzal struggled to sit up and join him, but he held out his hands. "No, no, stay and talk. Reminisce with your Fox." He smiled benevolently and was gone before anyone could say another word.

Itzal's heart pounded. He couldn't bear to look at Renouard, nor even speak. How would he escape?

"You've changed so much, Itzal."

Itzal turned his head warily. Renouard's gaze, the Fox's burning gaze was on him. It was just as before, being the focus of the Fox's undivided attention. A single glance and he felt like an interrogation spotlight was upon him. Being the focus of the Fox's grand and dedicated attention had once thrilled him.

He'd learned so much under Ren's tutelage. Starved of knowledge, he blossomed. Itzal had always been a smart child, but the teachers underground only taught rudimentary knowledge, mostly centered around prayer, with reading, maths, and the history of their life underground in between. The time before was spoken of in whispers.

After months, the Fox finally told him the truth.

"I'm a noble, Itzal. I'm one of the people who keeps you down there and yet, I ask you to return. It's a cruelty of incalculable proportion. And I perpetuate it, even as I seek to break it. If our plans don't work, you must escape and come to me. I'll protect you. I swear it."'

Had he been seducing him all along? Itzal was so young and impressionable, it must have been easy. Itzal blinked at the rush of memories. He looked up and gazed into Renouard's dark eyes.

"You know who I am?" He shook, in sudden tremors as Renouard rose. "You remember me?"

"Of course." Renouard whispered, as if afraid to speak aloud. "How could I forget you, Itzal? How I've missed you. What serendipity to find you here with my cousin."

Renouard moved slowly, but inexorably closer. Itzal fidgeted. Renouard knelt before him, his hands over Itzal's knees. He stared so intently, his eyes moving to and fro as he looked over Itzal's face. Itzal struggled to get out of the blankets binding him.

Renouard licked his lips and reached out, caressing Itzal's face so lightly. Itzal turned into the warm touch, rubbing his cheek into Renouard's hand.

"Renouard," he whispered. " _Ren_ , why did--" A finger over his lips broke off the question. Ren's hand slid over his face and then both hands gripped his neck, his jaw, his ears, and then his hair, tangling in the long waves, pulling him close, and inhaling deeply. He leaned in so they almost touched.

Ren's mouth opened and Itzal could feel his breath, taste the wine upon his tongue. He leaned in, but Ren pulled away, his hands still in Itzal's hair.

"May I kiss you?" His voice trembled.

Itzal's hands came free and he reached out, drawing Renouard close as he breathed out, "Yes."

Their lips met and it was like an electrical shock. Itzal ran his hands over Ren's short, oiled curls, like silk under his fingertips. He pulled and Ren pushed and they twisted into the space of the chair, kissing madly.

It wasn't like before.

Itzal was no longer a slight star-struck boy, eager to please. He twisted them around, so that he was the one pushing Ren down, trapping his wrists while he indulged in Ren's wine-sweet lips and the long-lost feel of his body. He was warm and malleable, hard and strong, his legs twisting around Itzal's.

They kissed as if they were starved for each other. It had been so long, but it felt like moments.

Itzal stopped, pushing himself up and holding Ren's shoulders down.

"Oh gods," he breathed. He shook his head, but Ren just smiled and rubbed his thumb against Itzal's lips.

"You're not just a houseguest."

Itzal shook his head. He was dizzy again. Maybe he was dreaming. This couldn't be real. Maybe he was still on the floor, passed out. Maybe he was still in the mines, stuck in a vent.

"I have to go." He pushed away and stood. He felt light-headed. Ren didn't move, only watched him leave the room, head tilted, almost in amusement.

Iudicael was asleep when he got in bed. When Itzal reached for him, one arm sliding over his waist, a leg hitching over hip, he pulled away, muttering. Itzal rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

For the first time in years, he couldn't sleep.

 

///

 

"There's a letter from your mother, Itzi. Her pregnancy has progressed. The doctor says it will be a boy." Iudicael handed Itzal the letter as he walked by. "Your sister wants to know when we'll visit."

Iudicael was sitting down to breakfast on the patio and Renouard had joined him. Itzal couldn't look at him. He finally fell asleep near dawn and spent all morning dreaming of the past, waking up to fear that he was back in the East Orange.

Itzal made his way to the table, bringing a tray of juice and tea.

"Let Oro do that," Iudicael murmured.

"She was up late cleaning up from your party. Let her sleep in. It's a dreary morning anyway." Iudicael said nothing, only pushed his glass toward Itzal and waited for him to pour the juice.

"We need coffee to get our mind in action, but Oro makes the best," he confided to Renouard. "We have work to do, Itzi. It'll bore you, all this family history and legal letters. You're not going to the Opera House today, are you? Why don't you go visit with Mother?"

He couldn't help it, his eyes went to Renouard first. One confusing kiss and he didn't want to be parted. He broke their gaze and turned to Iudicael.

"No, they're having practise sessions at the Opera. I'll go see Madam, of course. I won't return until late. She had gowns to send Esti and one of her nieces offered baby clothes for Mother once we know... Actually, I'll go now. Excuse me." He stood, made a neat bow, and left the room before anyone could say a word. He stopped in the kitchen, to grab tea and biscuits.

"He's awfully prickly lately," complained Iudicael. "We don't often have guests, so I do apologise. He'll warm up. He's just been so distant lately. Clement says he's cheating on me, but that's not likely."

So Iudicael had noticed. And damn Clement. He was as jealous as he was suspicious. Itzal waited a moment more to hear Renouard's reply.

Renouard hummed in response. "It's no worry. I'll talk to him tomorrow while you're gone."

Itzal's heart lurched when he remembered that Iudicael would be leaving for a few days. Oro always spent the last weekend of the month with her family so the house would be empty but for Renouard.

Four days alone. He rushed upstairs to dress and tried not to think upon it.

 

///

 

"I think we should talk." Renouard stood in the doorway of the library, his arms outstretched, hands pressed against the frame.

"I'm working," Itzal said, with a glance. "Perhaps later." He _was_ working. The Opera House had the drawings, he was only waiting to return for final inspection. He was clearly too busy to chat with Renouard. He'd tried hiding, but apparently that did not work.

"That's what you said at breakfast. And last night's dinner. Do I frighten you?" Renouard's hands gripped the frame and he pushed himself back and forth, almost swinging.

"Of course not."

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not. I'm--" He looked up again and nearly jumped. Renouard was standing beside him. He reached out to caress Itzal's cheek. "I'm busy. Don't."

Itzal made no move to stop Ren. He stepped closer. Another hand came up, smoothing over his hair.

"You've grown into a striking man. It's not so unseemly now, is it?" Ren brushed Itzal's hair back letting his fingers drift through the strands. "I never meant to hurt you, Itzal."

That got his attention. Itzal looked up. "What? You didn't hurt me."

"You were a child. In more ways than one. I didn't mean to take advantage." Renouard pulled his hand back and watched Itzal closely, arms folded across his chest.

Itzal sat up, shaking his head. "I was enslaved, I wasn't stupid. And you aren't that much older than me."

Renouard looked around the room. "How long have you lived here?"

Itzal followed his gaze, trying to see it from an outsider's view. The walls were covered in pale flocked velvet, set off by dark drapes outlining the ten foot high windows. The furniture was all handmade, dark wood, and silken fabrics. The huge double doors led to his bedroom--to their bedroom, where he and Iudicael slept. It was certainly a change from his living space when he'd met Ren. A dozen families fit into nearly the same amount of space.

"Ah, four years. I stayed in the guesthouse for a while. Cael helped me after, well, there was a great deal of turmoil after everything." Ren nodded. "I was in a camp with my family. He was with the census workers. They were moved into a small house and I came here."

Ren stood in the center of the room, leaning against an ornate settee, looking around. It was quiet while he waited for a response.

"I thought of you. In the dark, all those years." Ren's voice was low. "It helped. I thought, if you could suffer it, then so could I."

Itzal stood. The way Ren leaned against the settee, made him seem short, and Itzal was able to, if only slightly, look down on him.

"I didn't want you to suffer."

Ren lifted his gaze to Itzal and smiled. "I didn't. And now here I am."

Itzal swallowed uneasily. Ren stood so casually. They were so close, he could feel the warmth from Ren's body, smell the heady aroma of the badiane cologne he wore, and sense the tension in his muscles, barely held in check.

"Ren..."

Ren leaned forward, tipping his chin up to reach Itzal's lips. Itzal couldn't help himself, he clutched at Ren's shoulders. He meant to push Ren away, but he did not. He wanted Ren's arms to unfold and wrap around him. He wanted to wrap his arms around Ren.

Itzal pulled him forward, opening his mouth to meet Ren's in a desperate, forbidden kiss.

"I can't," he breathed. "Shouldn't..."

Ren's arms were still, infuriatingly, folded against his chest, against Itzal's chest.

"I can't."

With a strained sound, Ren unwound his arms and grasped Itzal, pulling him close for another kiss. Their panting filled the air around them with humid warmth, and they twisted and pulled at each other, desperate to get close. Ren slipped out of his shoes, and Itzal followed. It put them on an even base and they were suddenly eye to eye. Ren grinned. He'd teased Itzal about his height and here they were.

"Who's short now?" He laughed as Ren untied his trousers. He returned the favour and pulled Ren through the doors to the bedroom. Ren dropped his jacket, then his shirt, and pulled away from the kiss only to pull off his undershirt.

Ren pushed Itzal onto the bed and he sat, somewhat dumbfounded while Ren removed the remainder of his clothes. Fully naked, he stood before Itzal. He slipped to his knees and tugged Itzal's trousers open around his cock, fully hard. Suddenly, he realised what Ren had meant. It seemed taboo-- _now_.

But not nearly as taboo as this. He gasped, dropping his head back, as Ren's mouth engulfed his cock with a sweet heat.

"Gods, Ren." He leaned back, letting his hips tilt forward into Ren's mouth. The warmth, the heat of his tongue was intense, was nearly too much. He pushed at Ren's shoulders.

"Up here, kiss me, please."

Ren slid off his cock, sucking as he slowly pulled off, eyes on Itzal's. He put a knee on the bed, between Itzal's legs and pushed his shirt off, dropping on top of Itzal, their mouths meeting in a hot kiss as they fell back, and once again Itzal rolled until he was over Ren.

"Gods, I loved you. Why did you leave me?" He kissed Ren too many times to get an answer, on his lips, across his jaw, down his neck. He didn't want an answer, but he had to get the words out.

Ren's chest heaved, but he didn't speak. His arms wound around Itzal until Itzal pushed them out and over his head. He dragged his fingers down Ren's body, exploring. They were well fed in the mines, but time and hard labour had given his body sharp, lean muscles. Itzal trailed down to his uncut cock, surrounded by neatly trimmed hair. He smoothed his thumb over the head and Ren moaned.

"No touching, just fuck me," he whispered. Ren shifted to let his legs bend, his inner thighs rubbing against Itzal's thighs. "Please."

Itzal shivered. He stretched to reach for the oil they kept on the nightstand. A blush of guilt swept his mind, but he pushed it away. He turned back to Ren, who had turned over. Removing the stopper, he tipped the bottle to let a thin trickle of oil trace over Ren's lower back and buttocks.

Ren let out a breathy moan and Itzal smoothed his hand over Ren's back, drawing a finger between his cheeks, until he found found the sensitive heat of his hole. His finger circled, oiled and teasing, and Ren whimpered.

"I dreamt of you," he said. "In the dark, you were my touchstone." He hummed in response to Ren's unstopping touch. "I endured it, knowing you were safe."

Itzal pressed his finger in, smiling as Ren's body opened to him.

"Renouard, my fox." He slid over Ren, kissing his neck as he aligned their bodies and pushed into Ren. They both gasped. "Oh, gods. This is what I--" He broke off as Ren shifted underneath him, arching, his body a vise around Itzal, hips moving, driving into him at a rapid pace.

A fine sheen of sweat made them as slippery as the oil did, and Itzal grasped at Ren's shoulders as he slid in and out of Ren, building to a tortuous intensity. He pushed and pushed until Ren jerked beneath him, his muscles suddenly clamping around Itzal. He stuttered out a cry, a soft broken sound, then said Itzal's name over and over.

Ren flexed his body once more and Itzal shouted as he lost control, pumping his hips, letting his release fill Ren. He stilled, tense and panting, heartbeat pounding in his ears, before driving in again until he could no longer move.

After a few moments, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, still trying to catch his breath.

As their bodies cooled, Itzal started to realise just what they'd done--what he'd done. He turned to look at Ren. He was still on his stomach, but he face was turned toward Itzal. His eyes were closed, but his body moved with each rapid breath.

"This... wasn't what I meant... to happen."

Ren laughed. "So you _were_ avoiding me?"

Itzal gave him an uneasy smile in return. "I really didn't... I shouldn't have..." He trailed off and it it really sank in. "Renouard, I--"

A noise distracted them. Itzal felt a wave of guilty sickness and stood. He was taking a step toward the door when Iudicael came through the doors.

Itzal sat back down, but he couldn't speak. It seemed like a hand clutched his heart in a tight trip and he couldn't make a sound. Ren rose and picked his trousers up, carefully stepping in and tying himself up.

Iudicale stared at the both in confusion, then at the rest of the clothing scattered on the floor.

"What is this? Itzal?"

It was clear what it was, yet he asked. Ren, still half dressed, looked surprised. He wasn't used to Iudicael's non-rhetorically asked questions.

Itzal tried to speak, despite feeling sick to his stomach, but no words came. It wasn't fair to Iudicael. It was wrong. A betrayal of the highest order.

And yet.

"Cael, I'm sorry, it's--"

Ren finished buttoning his trousers and turned. "Don't blame him, cousin. I--"

Iudicael didn't even look at Ren. "Don't speak to me of blame. You leave. This is between us alone." He looked angry. He looked betrayed.

Renouard bowed gently to Iudicael and left without a word, shirtless and barefoot, his shirt on the bed, his jacket and slippers scattered on the floor trailing toward Iudicael.

Iudicael started pacing, hands behind his back. He reminded Itzal of one of the priests that had taught them prayers when he was young. He paced as he lectured, explaining how the sins of the world pushed them underground. He was a quiet man, and that had made him all the more terrifying.

"I hurry home to you and find this. You could barely wait for me to leave, could you? Is this what you do every time I go? I ruin your plans when I return early, don't I?"

"No, of course not. Cael, listen to me--"

"You've been distant lately. And now I know why. You tire of my affections. I lifted you from the streets, brought you into this world, made you a part of my _family_ , for god's sake. You'd be in a brothel if it weren't for me!"

That certainly stung. He was smart. He had the Fox to thank for that. He'd joined the Royal House of Engineers and while he had Iudicael to thank for the suggestion, it was by his own merit they accepted him. There was never a chance he'd have gone to a brothel. "It isn't--"

"How long has this gone on? Who else?" Itzal couldn't get a word in edgewise and the pacing was making him nervous. He feared breaking the spell of pacing and talking. And then suddenly Iudicael spun to face him.

"There is no--"

"Get out."

Itzal blinked. "What?"

Iudicael grabbed a vase on the chest by the window and threw it at his feet. "I said get out!"

Itzal jumped, startled by the noise and the violent act. It wasn't like Iudicael at all. He was dramatic yes, but only with an audience. With Itzal, it was different.

"Renouard is family. I've no choice but to take him in. You're nothing." Iudicael broke off to take a shuddering breath. "Nothing but a whore," he said, very precisely, eyes colder than Itzal had ever known. "Leave."

"Cael--" He'd never seen or heard Iudicael like this. His hands twitched as if he wanted to do to Itzal what he did to the vase. "Cael, don't--"

"I have a title. You will use it." Iudicael stepped over the vase, the delicate porcelain crunching beneath his boots. His jaw clenched and and his mouth barely moved as he spoke. "You bow to me." He stood over Itzal, arms tight against his side, hands fisted as if he could barely contain the violent impulse.

Itzal's stomach swayed.

"My apologies, Lord Gardinier." He could hear the tremble in his voice and he knew Iudicael could too. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Pack a case and go. I'll send the rest of your belongings after you."

Itzal bowed his head so far down he was almost touching the mattress. He could smell Renouard's cologne on the sheets. What had he done?

"And get dressed." The disgust in his voice sent a shiver down Itzal's spine. The door slammed shut.

Itzal barely made it to the toilet to throw up.

 

///

 

It didn't take long to pack clothing into a valise. It was enough for a few nights. He really wasn't certain what to take. He'd never had to pack his own bags before. When they'd left the East Orange, he'd had nothing to pack. When they travelled together, staff packed the bags. Cologne, mouthwash, a night cap to keep his hair from tangling in his sleep. Ah, slippers. He packed a warm woolen coat into the trunk. With shoes, and two proper suits, that left very little room. He wasn't sure what Iudicael would consider his. Did the cufflinks that Madam gave him count as his or as Iudicael's? She was his mother after all.

As he stood over the jewellery box, Oro came in.

"You've been summoned by the Lord, dove. The rest of the staff is back and he is clearly taking himself far too seriously. I hope you can amend that." Oro's expression told him he was clearly to blame, but he didn't need her to tell him that.

Any questions he'd had about what he would do were now answered. And Iudicael was a stubborn mule when it came down to it. Rightly wronged this time, Itzal had no idea how far he would take things.

He knocked at Iudicael's office door and started to enter, before thinking better of it. Within seconds came the quick double ring of a bell. He was granted entrance. Iudicael hadn't done that since he'd had royalty from a nearby city visiting.

Iudicael was behind his large desk, hands in his lap when Itzal entered. He made his way over and sat only when and where Iudicael indicated he should. Itzal opened his mouth to speak, but Iudicael raised his hand.

"I will speak first."

Itzal nodded and waited politely. Iudicael was contemplating his desk. After a moment he leaned forward and rang his bell again. Three quick rings, then one. In no time, a side door and a young woman Itzal didn't even recognise came in with a tray. She sat it on Iudicael's desk and bowed quickly.

Itzal took a deep breath, but said nothing.

"Itzal." Iudicael inclined his head stiffly. "I didn't realise there was--such history between you. I misunderstood, not knowing the whole story." He managed to say so without an accusing tone, but it still felt like yet another slight Itzal was responsible for.

"Renouard has moved to the guesthouse. He has asked that I allow you to stay until until the week's end to make a decision." Iudicael tossed his head. "You may sleep there if you like. Oro put together a meal for Renouard. No dinner is served tonight. The house will be locked at tenth hour."

"Thank you, Ca--Lord Gardinier." He bowed his head neatly, as taught, so many years ago, by Iudicael himself.

"Mm. That will be all." Iudicael lifted a cup off the tray and took a sip, then returned to the papers on his desk. He waved his hand, dismissing Itzal, and began writing.

Itzal opened his mouth to speak, but had nothing to say.

What have I done?

He stood there for a moment more, but Iudicael continued writing. The scraping noise of the quill rasped against Itzal's skin. If Iudicael knew Itzal was still in the room, he didn't act upon it. Finally, Itzal left.

In their room he sat on the bed and looked around. They'd been consorted for four years. They'd planned to formalise their union next spring, marking the eighth anniversary of their meeting. Or so it would have been. But how easily Iudicael cast him out! As if he'd been waiting for the moment.

He so coldly turned off his feelings. Itzal felt too guilty to summon proper anger at the thought, but it stung. He'd made a mistake. One Cael had made plenty of times. Why couldn't he listen, give Itzal a chance to explain? He would never know what it was like to be kept in darkness. He would never know what Ren--what the Fox had given him. What he represented.

After Renouard's trial, Itzal moped and grew depressed. He refused to sleep in the dark and some days didn't leave the bed at all. At first Iudicael was concerned. He brought food and drink on a tray and kept nightlights in every room.

After a month, the concern began to wane. At two months, Iudicael brought other lovers home. He didn't bother keeping them a secret. One night, Itzal had shocked them both by breaking into tears at the sight of Iudicael in another man's arms.

A visit to a philosophic suggested a traumatic disorder of the mind and offered medicine and therapy. They worked to heal the rifts in their relationship.

Or so he thought. Perhaps the scars hadn't healed entirely.

A soft knock at the door distracted him. He looked up to see Oro entering, her colourful tunic as bright as the flowers outside the window.

"I made you tea and a snack, dove. And I told the mighty Lord that he was a right mule. He's the one with the problem, dove. Never you." She patted his arm tenderly and gestured at the cookies and sandwich. "Eat up."

Itzal smiled at her. Oro was at least seventy, thought she often claimed to be older. She didn't remind him at all of his own grandmother. She was more like his younger sister. Impish, impudent, a prankster, and a champion of those unfairly treated.

It was a wonder Iudicael put up with her. He was a stickler for decorum, and even though the high classes weren't what they had been, most still got courtesy treatment, both from the earth children and the servant classes. At least Oro could be counted on to put Iudicael in his place.

"I'm not sure where to go, Oro."

She made a face at him, then one to the ceiling, meant for Iudicael no doubt. "I could send you to my daughter's family, but they'll put you to work on that farm, a strapping boy such as yourself. I suppose you could go to the city. Too old for an apprentice, but you've got skills for electrics. Maybe Master knows someone... Hm. I'll see who I can contact. My niece works for the Duke of Quanais. I'll send her a letter first thing in the morning."

Itzal nodded. "Thank you. I will appreciate it." He pushed the plate toward her, and she took a cookie.

"You'll stay until then, won't you?"

Itzal looked askance. "Where? I'm to be out of the house before tenth hour." A strapping boy like him, but his stomach twisted at the thought. The utter fear of being cast out almost brought him to tears. Something he thought he'd got over a long time ago.

Oro made a patient expression. "The guesthouse, dove. It can handle a full family of size. I'm sure two young men will fare quite well."

Itzal shook his head. "I can't--not to him. He would hate that. It would only make it worse."

"But he's pushing you right to it, isn't he?" She squinted her eyes and tilted her head forward, tapping first her own forehead, then his. "Think, dove. It's a guilty conscience that accuses with no evidence."

"Oh, Oro. He had evidence. He's absolutely right. I'm a... I mean, I'm--I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what I was thinking. Oh gods, I wasn't thinking." Itzal dropped his head in his hands. "What on earth was I thinking? He's right. I betrayed him. I thought I loved him so much, I thought he loved me, and yet..."

"And yet?"

Itzal swallowed and looked up at her. It was hard to admit. Even to Oro, no doubt well versed in the drama of relations. "And yet, Renouard appears, as if out of thin air, and I'm like a firefly drawn to a flame. Everything is so different now. But Ren. I loved him first," Itzal said helplessly. "I can't help that."

Oro patted his arm. "Finish your packing. I'll walk you to the guesthouse."

 

///

 

Renouard was reclined on the sofa of the salon in the guesthouse, reading a small book. It had been years since Itzal had stayed in the guesthouse and he'd forgotten how large it was. Oro was right. A family could host a small dinner party and still have room for dancing.

Renouard sat up as Itzal came in and rose when he saw Oro carrying a covered tray.

"Shoo!" She said when he tried to take the tray. "You don't treat me like an old woman, and I won't treat you like a hungry wolf with an eye for the master's lamb." Renouard smiled and bowed neatly, his hand out to guide her.

They laughed, but Itzal wasn't comfortable with the idea that Renouard had anything to be guilty of. He wasn't the lamb. Itzal was the one who should carry the guilt. He was the one to blame. He--

"Come, come, dove. You can't take care of yourself without eating."

He was the wolf.

"I should eat in my room and--"

"Itzal, sit. Relax and have some food. Stay here until Cael comes to his senses." They'd not made eye contact because Itzal hadn't looked at him, but now he did. Renouard, hand at Itzal's elbow, was right beside him.

Itzal looked into his eyes. Only this morning they'd... And damned if he wasn't still so desperately in love with the fox.

"He is no longer Cael to me. He is Lord Gardinier, and I have wronged and betrayed him. You are a cousin to him, but I know--knew him intimately. He doesn't forgive and he won't forget. I'll have no choice but to leave." He could hear his own voice shaking and see the sympathy in Renouard's eyes. "I don't know what he'll tell people--"

"Fear not. You know him well, but so do I. He'll concoct a story that suits the gossips. He wouldn't want anyone thinking untoward of either him or his tastes. You'll both escape unscathed. Sit." Renouard pressed on his shoulder and he sat. "Perhaps he'll say I stole you. You'll both suffer deliciously and he'll find someone to recount the dramatics for his next fete."

Itzal shook his head. It felt odd to be near Ren. The tension was broken. After so many years of sneaking and secrecy, the taboo suddenly seemed routine.

"Besides, he's not as innocent as he makes himself. The guilty usually condemn in others what they despise in themselves." Renouard tucked into his meal, but Itzal's appetite had still not returned since yesterday.

Itzal turned to look at Renouard. "What do you mean?"

"Only what I say. I won't indulge in rumours or gossip, but I believe Cael is only upset that you beat him to the punch."

"That's horrible of you to say. It's speculation at best and practically gossip at its worst. He's right about me."

Renouard flung his fork down. "He thinks of you as a pet tiger! Dangerous, but shackled and tame. I don't deny letting myself indulge of another's man consort, but he's more offended that I touched his property without his permission than he is that you allowed it. How can you not see the way he treats you, Itzal? Is his perception correct? Are you as gelded as he treats you?"

Itzal sat back. It was as though each word was a slap in his face.

And yet. He couldn't deny the point Renouard made.

It had been getting worse, the way Iudicael presented him, showed him off, and made him perform. He'd only been denying it. No wonder he'd felt so aloof lately.

'I've another trip to the city. Clement and Prades will be going. If you weren't busy with the Opera House, I'd take you with us.'

He'd forgot the row they got into over that trip. Clement had suggested someone stay to guard Itzal. When Itzal told him he was quite capable of defending himself, he'd clarified. 'I'm merely protecting Iudicael's interests. Who knows what could happen?'

At the time, he'd taken it to mean the house. But Clement was always the one suggesting that Itzal was less than faithful.

"He didn't know--"

Renouard shook his head. "He's known since you met him. I bid him find you and take you under his wing. I knew he would escape unscathed. And I knew I would be caught. I couldn't take the risk you'd suffer our connection. I knew he would take care of you."

Itzal stared at Renouard. "He said he didn't know the whole story. That's why he let me stay tonight. A favour for..."

Renouard scoffed. "He's known the entire story all along. I didn't even know you were here. He told me he had a houseguest, he never said who. I _begged_ him to let you stay."

He couldn't imagine the Fox begging for anything.

"I did love him."

"I should hope so."

"Only, I loved you first. So much."

Renouard smiled. "I should hope so. I was committed to freeing them, Itzal. To let loose the mines and everyone in them. But until I met you, it was all an idea in my head. I was in love with my cause. When I met you... You gave my cause _meaning_. You became my cause. You've always been my cause."

Itzal put his chin on his hand and leaned on his elbows, watching Renouard.

"You truly are a fox."

Renouard grasped his hand and laughed.

 

///

 

_Epilogue_

Renouard waved and Itzal waved back. Esti came to stand beside him, wearing a bright yellow gown, one of the fine gowns Iudicael's mother had sent. Together they watched Renouard follow Grandmother down to the vineyards.

A letter had come with the gowns.

_My Dearest Itzal,  
Iudicael has told me a story about you. You know I only listen to half of what he says. Do visit and tell me what has happened. I've enclosed another pair of gowns for your sister, the baby clothing for your mother, and a few things for you as well. Don't let my son be a bother. Ignore him as I do!_

_Much love,  
Your Dearest Second Mother_

"Is it true? Did he really just throw you out?" Esti was still watching Renouard and Grandmother so Itzal studied her profile for a moment before answering.

"Just so. Good thing I gave him a reason. It would have been embarrassing to be put out because I didn't perform well enough at his party."

Esti laughed. "I can imagine the headlines. 'Ungrateful child ruins party! Mousse goes uneaten in shock!'" She sighed. "It's a shame, but now you have him. It's so romantic, isn't it?" A call from the road took their attention and Esti nearly squeaked. "Oh, Indar is coming!" She smoothed her hair and her dress and kissed his cheek. "We're going for a walk."

Itzal smiled as she walked away--slowly as to not seem too eager, but not too slowly because she truly was eager. Their story paled to her own romance, of course. He waved to Indar once she was safely met and turned his attention back to Renouard and Grandmother.

The land was ringed by sharp rocks on one side that, from a distance looked like tiny magical castles. To the west as a dark blue lake that shimmered in the sunlight. Nestled by a line of trees that trailed the edge of a forest leading up to the rocks, was his home, a sprawling country home.

Grandfather had passed his patriarchal standing to Itzal, his eldest male heir. Any day now, his mother, remarried to a local man, would be giving birth to his half-brother. His sister was marrying Indar, a baker from a nearby village. His people were descended from those who escaped the roundup so many centuries ago. They still spoke the old language and cooked traditional foods. Grandmother had a lovely garden full of the herbs she'd told him about when he was a child, that she learned of from her Grandmother.

It was almost surreal. They had woken together in a home built on ancestral lands, once owned by his family. And now he lived there with his family and Renouard.

And he was consorted with the fox. It was like a fairy tale. From darkness to light. In the end, he was a wolf who'd trapped a fox and he didn't want to chance it, but he was certain they were living happily ever after.

Renouard looked up again and waved.

 

/fin  



End file.
